


Circumstances

by Nikita



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Or Is It?, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikita/pseuds/Nikita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak cherishes stolen moments during some unfortunate circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> Written years ago - set at sometime during the earlier part of the series.

Warnings: Slash, m/m thoughts. Pre-slash and angsty.

 

XXXOXXX

 

I’ll never get over just how ‘hairy’ humans are. No matter how many I’ve seen or how closely I’ve observed them, it still strikes me at times like these just how different they are from Cardassians.

As I stroke the beginnings of his rough beard with my fingertips, I must ruefully admit that it isn’t often that there ‘are’ times like these… It isn’t often that I can touch him in such an intimate manner. Indeed – it isn’t often that I touch him at all. But as I sit here, so very close to him – close enough to smell him, close enough to touch… To taste. I find myself unable to resist. The touching at least. 

He’s burning. Humans are always rather warm compared to Cardassians, but the heat I feel coming from his skin is far above normal, I fear. His eyes open as I press my fingers against his cheek, ostensibly to test his temperature once more. Glazed, unseeing hazel eyes stare blindly at me as I try to remain calm.

“Doctor? Can you hear me?”

He doesn’t answer, but his hand reaches out weakly towards me before dropping back to the floor. I pick it up and hold it gently in my own as I continue to stare into his eyes. His mouth twitches but then falls slack once more. A smile? Or an attempt to speak. I have no idea since his eyes close as he falls unconscious once more.

What am I do to do? He’s the doctor here. I’ve only the barest of knowledge in first aid for my own species. The only knowledge I have on human anatomy is how to best inflict pain and ensure cooperation. Nothing that will help me here.

Here. This blasted cell where we’ve been rotting for at least two weeks. If it were only myself I wouldn’t wonder – but why hasn’t Starfleet come to rescue Julian? 

It’s speculation I can ill afford at a time like this. Julian is obviously seriously ill and I’ve yet to open up any meaningful dialog with our captors. Without communication I have no way to bargain for his safety. I can’t even plead for mercy, which at the moment I’m fully prepared to do. For him.

I find I have no pride or dignity when it comes to him. I’d beg on my hands and knees if necessary.

I can’t stand this. Watching him grow sicker with every passing moment. At first he was merely tired. Fatigued from the long ‘sessions’ our current hosts seem to delight in delivering to us the first two days. But soon the tiredness was accompanied by a lack of appetite. And this I found truly alarming considering the fact that we were given such little sustenance to begin with.

By the fourth day he was unable to get up from the floor without help. It was only on the sixth day that he fell into the fevered stupor he’s currently in. 

And it was then that I finally allowed myself to lie beside him. I watched him carefully. Tried to wake him to eat. Talked to him. I was careful, as I always am, about what subjects I covered. Nothing too strenuous - nothing too revealing. But after a time…I was amazed to find that I was telling him about my childhood home. The way the light would hit my windowsill during the evening. The long walks I would take on my days off of lessons. Recited bits and pieces of literature Tain had read to me on the odd evening together in his study. I shared every moment I could remember of the more pleasant times of those days. 

Before long I found myself simply humming the odd bit of music that seemed soothing or calm…I think he liked that, although I’d be the first to inform him that I have no ear for music. Still, I was glad to be able to give him something comforting to focus on as his delirium began. He began to thrash, twisting in my arms as he called out unintelligible words. After the first bout – after he was once more resting somewhat quietly on the floor – I found myself banging on the door, calling out and raging at the unseen guards.

It was unsettling to realize that I had screamed myself hoarse later that night. So I was unable to talk or hum to Julian. So I settled on rocking him in my arms, trying not to dwell on useless thoughts.

And every day I watch him closely…as if I will miss something if I step away. Not that I can go anywhere. Our gracious hosts do not bother with us anymore except to dispense our rations through the small slot in the door. 

And so I spend my days hoping Starfleet rescues him soon…

XXX

“Garak?” I start at the sound of his voice behind me, but I’m my usual self when I turn to greet him.

“Ah, Doctor, I see you have been released from the infirmary. I trust you are feeling better?”

He smiles and nods as I gesture him towards the table nearest to us. “Yes, thank you. I wanted to thank you, Garak…”

I bow my head in acceptance, prepared to brush off the need for thanks.

“No, really, Garak. I don’t remember much, but what I do remember…it helped to hear your voice. To know that someone was there.”

I shrug, “But of course, Doctor. You would have done the same for me. And you have, many times over. Shall we order?”

And so we turn our conversation onto far lighter subjects and the matter is dropped. It’s only as I find myself glancing at his hands at one point during the meal that I remember holding them not so very long ago…stroking his skin. Feeling that fine silky hair…and I notice his beard is gone once more. His cheeks look smooth and soft again. 

I wonder again at how hairy humans are and yet how very soft and warm they are…and I wonder if I will ever feel him again. 

Perhaps under better circumstances one day.

END


End file.
